


Memories Consume

by Ariss_Tenoh



Category: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariss_Tenoh/pseuds/Ariss_Tenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the mind locks away... seeps through the heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Consume

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Feb 9th 2007.

Moving on, moving _forward_ was a lot harder than Damien thought.

 

He had stayed at Black Ridge Pass for two months, till the fires burned out and the Forest loomed like a black skeleton in the distance. Then he travelled to the towns near Jaggonath but never entered Jaggonath itself. Perhaps never again. He found himself in Faraday one autumn evening, that had been a wake-up call of sorts. The harbour had been rebuilt and the defences fixed. As much as they could be with no accessible fae any more. The price of wards and fae artefacts had sky-rocketed, unsurprisingly. He wondered what would happen if the quake wards failed; it happened when they couldn't withstand the pressure after a certain amount of time. Cities dependant on such Workings, especially Jaggonath, would become either ghost towns or death traps depending on what God willed.

 

For the first time in his life Damien had trouble caring. Had the two years journey desensitised him to tragedy? Or had the Hunter's ruthless pragmatism leached him of compassion?

 

No, the answer wasn't that easy. Damien didn't think about it; he tried not to think of much these days.

 

Six months later found him crossing the Divider Mountains. Some would call crossing it in winter suicidal. Damien preferred to think of it as "amusing." So few things drew a reaction from him these days. Though he'd kept a low profile in the westlands, mainly revisiting old haunts and childhood memories, the Matriarch somehow learned of his presence and sent for him. He dreaded the meeting but could not escape it. It surprised, and relieved, him that she merely wanted to hear his tale. His side of the story. So they spent a day and a night talking. Or rather Damien talked his throat raw while the Matriarch listened. Meals were brought to them and he talked and talked while she nodded and asked quiet questions. Only when he reached the end did he realise it was a confession of sorts; she had wished to absolve him of guilt. The Matriarch smiled sadly as if she knew what he was thinking and sent him to a guest room in one of the Western Cathedral's wings. Damien slept for two days, exhaustion of the body finally matching that of the spirit.

 

He asked for the Matriarch four days after their talk. She received him warmly and asked him about his plans for the future.

 

_He hesitated. "What would you do Holiness, if you lost something?"_

_"I would try to find it." Her expression did not change as she poured tea for them both and handed him his cup._

_He looked down at it. It was so delicate, fine porcelain edged in gold. Breakable._

_"What if you couldn't find it?"_

_"I would try to replace it if I could."_

_"What if... what if it was something so unique.. so precious that nothing in the world could take its place"? His voice dropped to a whisper by the last word._

_There was a drawn out silence and he lifted his eyes from the tea sloshing in its cup to meet her gaze._

_"Oh Damien.. then I am truly sorry for you. And I wish I could undo the cause of your sorrow."_

_The sympathy in her eyes was more than a seasoned warrior could endure._

 

Damien left soon after, loaded with supplies and a fresh horse and coins. All pressed upon him by the Matriarch who personally came to see him leave.

 

Nearly a year later, he found himself sitting in a tavern in a dae much like the last time he'd been in one. Tonight, True Night would fall for an hour. Yet people wandered around freely in the streets and pathways, the shutters and doors of their homes and businesses unlocked against the night. It ignited a sharp flare of anger in his chest. Such behaviour would have been inconceivable three years ago. Now... now they were all _safe_. And these people would never know the price of such safety. A price paid in precious coin.

 

The fire roared in the hearth. The waitress served drinks to all tables. Men and women sat together talking, drinking, smiling.

 

He pushed back his chair and walked towards the stairs in the back, heading up to his room. As he took the small steep steps slowly, he remembered the unexpected guest he'd had in an inn near the mountain pass in the westlands.

 

_Damien Vryce was tired from riding for miles to find an available room in an inn, his legs protested the added strain of climbing the stairs after days in the saddle, and his stomach was growling fiercely. Despite all that, he doubted he would have been ready to face it even if he had been well rested._

_He opened the door and his heart stopped. Or very nearly did._

_Seated by the window was a beautiful man in a pale blue tunic embroidered heavily in gold thread at the neckline, cuffs, and hem. Soft beige leather boots encased his legs up to his knees above tan leggings. The man turned his head, a minute yet elegant move._

_But Damien didn't need to see his face to know his identity._

_Gerald Tarrant stood and walked the four steps across the room that would bring him to Damien. He reached behind Damien and closed the door._

_Damien had not moved nor uttered a word._

_Gerald's eyes were grey and intent. He lifted a pale hand and touched Damien's cheek._

_"I thought you would be glad to see me."_

_The delicate beauty of his face, that oh so elegant cool facade, and the power that surrounded him like a palpable aura. It hit Damien with the force of a tsunami, almost making him sag in sheer relief....._

_Perhaps because the vision was sculpted with such perfection did its flaw become so apparent._

_"Whatever you are, you'll shed this skin **now** if you want to live." The angry growl coming from his mouth startled even him._

_Gerald or whatever it was took a step backwards. It smiled._

_"I told him you were not one for false comforts." The voice matched Gerald's on every vowel and syllable._

_Damien drank in the image of Gerald Tarrant and warred with a rising well of anger and frustration. His hand tightened on his sword's pommel._

_The creature wearing the Hunter's face took another step back and its skin rippled. Like a pool's surface does at the faint touch of a dragonfly's wings, slowly and flawlessly. So that when the ripple faded nothing could be seen but calm water on its surface._

_"Iezu," Damien challenged._

_It was now a beautiful woman dressed in a burgundy gown trimmed in black lace, straight out of the Revival period, multi-layered and with a high neck and full sweeping sleeves. Its black hair held up in elaborate braids around its head like a queen's crown, while the rest flowed down its back to touch the room's wooden floor. A pale delicate woman, just the kind preferred by the Forest's monarch._

_It executed a graceful curtsy._

_"The name is Saris," its voice was intimately feminine and shivered its way down Damien's spine._

_Damien recognized the gesture and was slightly humbled by it. Names were keys of power among the faeborn and demonkind._

_"May I ask what gave me away?"_

_"Your eyes. He was always an arrogant bastard even when he stood to commit suicide on Mount Shaitan." In spite of himself, Damien's expression and tone betrayed an irrepressible fondness for the man._

_The Iezu Saris nodded. "I see I have much to learn regarding human mannerisms."_

_"Why are you here?" Damien leaned back against the door, suddenly weary._

_Saris sat down on the bed. The lines and folds of her gown were artfully arranged about her legs._

_"Karril sent me."_

_"Why now?"_

_"He would have come sooner but there were matters to attend to with Our Mother's awakening. Later, your pain kept him away. And now it has deepened into apathy." The Iezu managed to sound almost apologetic._

_Damien winced. "Apathy huh? It's come to that then." He looked at her._

_Saris smiled and by the One God she was beauty incarnate, thought Damien._

_"There is a kind of beauty in the loss of all hope. Despair has a fragile nature. I admire how long you've maintained such a bittersweet state."_

_He groaned._

_"Did I offend?"_

_"No, no. Glad to know someone finds me useful for something these days." He smiled at her. Like a child, she frowned. Uncertain how she had distressed him._

_"I'm fine. You can tell Karril he doesn't need to worry."_

_From the room's open window, Damien could see that the Core would set soon. He wanted to get rid of his guest and sleep._

_"Karril worries. A human affectation perhaps. Or perhaps he regards you as a friend and wishes to be assured of your well-being." Saris' gaze was earnest. Fine mimicry really._

_"I'm fine. You can tell him that."_

_She stared at him for a long moment. Then rose, her gown and hair moving about her as if a breeze passed by in the locked room._

_"I shall tell him." She began to fade. "The reclaiming of life has a special beauty too, Damien Vryce." Colour seeped away from her body like rainwater and Saris became neither male nor female but one who embodied beauty in its most abstract form.... and faded from sight._

_The Core had set. Damien sighed. He took off his shirt and boots. The sword in its shoulder harness was placed on the floor near the bed. Old habits die hard after all. He lay down and stared at the ceiling. Reclaiming life huh? What was left when you had experienced the highest pinnacle and lowest fall of your life? He took a deep breath and exhaled very slowly. Sleep would come soon; it was his lone solace this past year._

_Sleep. And memories in dreams._

 

The stairs creaked under his feet. One lamp hung at the landing and Damien walked past it to his room at the end of the corridor. He slipped the brass key into the door and swung it open. His eyes swept the room, dark but empty. He stepped in and bolted the door behind him.

 

Outside, True Night had begun. Foolhardy certainly but Damien didn't light the candle in the room. He went through his bedtime motions. Shirt off, then boots, then sword. He leaned down to sit on the bed when he suddenly pivoted on one foot and grabbed the figure behind him and slammed the person on the bed. The bed's thin frame shook, nearly breaking.

 

"Who are you?" he hissed.

 

"Vryce, you're an idiot. It's True Night and you haven't a light in your room. Have you acquired suicidal tendencies lately?" The voice was that of a young man. Damien let go and backed slowly towards the table and quickly lit the candle.

 

Light flooded the room.

 

On the bed was a young man, no more than twenty if that. Olive skin, long black hair, leather pants and boots, and expensive silk shirt.

 

Damien stared.

 

"Who...?" he began.

 

The young man's eyes met his. _Centuries_ swirled in those eyes. Fathomless age and knowledge and wisdom and everything in between good and evil.....

 

Damien tried to speak. His mouth wouldn't make a sound.

 

The man rose from the bed. He brushed the sleeve of his crimson tunic. The gesture so familiar it made Damien's heart ache, bleeding in remembrance.

 

"We can discuss it tomorrow." Damien hadn't noticed the man moving; he stood in front of Damien now. "Don't ask me anything tonight. The price of such knowledge is more than either of us can afford."

 

The moment in all its subtle meanings stretched taught.

 

And broke.

 

Damien grabbed the man's shoulders and kissed him savagely. The young man didn't protest but returned the kiss with equal passion............

 

Saris hovered in the air, unseen by any human eye. She knew Karril would doubtless tease her about voyeurism if he saw her. She couldn't help it. Shame or guilt were not aspects of the Iezu. She drank in the emotions pouring from the small room and watched in delight how it affected the fae. Her month long vigil would end soon and she could tell Karril that his friends were going to be all right.

 

Ah....ecstasy was sweet. So sweet.

 

She was the goddess of beauty. All forms of beauty were sacred to her. Her priests and worshippers offered it to her at her temples and altars. Yet, this kind of beauty... She rarely tasted it in all the millennia of her existence.

 

She smiled, the fae coloured by her aspect rushed over in warm tactile and emotional notes, like colourful living music washing against her being.

 

True darkness enveloped Erna. It was as it should be, Saris thought.

 

The resonance of a love forged in bonds of blood and mutual sacrifice was too fragile for the light of day.......

 

~ End ~

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, a certain conversation at the end of Crown of Shadows didn't happen here. You might consider this an AU ending.


End file.
